


The Aftermath of the Abduction

by redsnake05



Category: Black Sheep - Georgette Heyer, HEYER Georgette - Works
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-05 20:38:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redsnake05/pseuds/redsnake05
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an abduction, there must be a gloomy house in the countryside filled with sinister retainers. Abby has no intention of letting it stay that way, and, all in all, she has high hopes of this abduction turning out rather better than any trashy romance one might do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bow/gifts).



"Here we are," said Miles cheerfully as the chaise turned into a rutted lane that might once have been a respectable carriage sweep. "I see they managed to get the padlock off the gates." He craned his head to see out the window. "However, the hayfield remains."

"Excellent," said Abby, looking critically out her window at the overgrown hedge lining her side of the driveway. Through gaps, she could see what might once have been formal gardens leading away to woodland. "I thought you said you were throwing an army at this place?"

"A _small_ army," said Miles. A turn in the driveway brought them into view of the house. "It looks quite disheartening, does it not?" 

"Quite," said Abby. "But I did not expect anything less from you. I trust I am about to meet your sinister retainers, now that you have abducted me and brought me to your gloomy mansion in the countryside."

"You know, I have never thought of Mrs Penn as sinister," he said, "but I wouldn't want you to feel that your abduction is missing any essential component. Perhaps we can find some ghosts, to make up for it. Of course, I undertake to be as disagreeable as possible."

"That goes without saying, my dear," said Abby. "One's abductor is clearly never a gentleman, and is, in fact, in every way a most improper person." The chaise pulled to a stop on the weedy forecourt and Miles took Abby's hand for a moment, raising it to his lips and kissing it. Abby's heart fluttered a little at the intent look in his eyes and she almost forgot her nervousness about this, the first glimpse of her future home.

"I am glad you have no illusions about me," he said.

"None whatsoever," replied Abby. "I have known, from the outset, that you are a most shameless person, and your abduction of me has only confirmed it."

Miles laughed then, and was still smiling as the door was opened and the steps let down. He handed Abby down and introduced her to Mrs Penn, a round and comfortable looking woman. Abby couldn't imagine anyone less menacing. She rejected the offer of tea in favour of being immediately shown around her new home, hoping that the tour would break the ice and make her feel less uncomfortable about her new role.

"Good girl," said Miles. "Best to know what you're in for immediately."

"Naturally, I shall find it easier to escape from one of your servants than from you," retorted Abby. She followed Mrs Penn into the house, finding evidence in every room of deep neglect and hasty cleaning. She couldn't fault the woman; she couldn't imagine how it could have been otherwise. Soothing Mrs Penn's anxious apologies, Abby entered into all her housewifely concerns over damp, mildew and the cleaning of fireplaces. They found agreement on such things as the importance of a closed stove in the kitchens, and the necessity of good linen, and Abby was heartened by the respect and affection Mrs Penn showed Miles, and, by extension, herself. She exclaimed over a pretty dinner set, unearthed at the back of a cupboard, and agreed to all Mrs Penn's suggestions for their dinner.

Greatly cheered at the end of the tour, Mrs Penn left her in the main hall with a flurry of polite words, to fetch the tea tray and a pen and some paper. Abby was left with much food for thought, and some amusement. Her own domestic staff had known her since she was a child; she was unused to being regarded as a blessing from Providence. Her tour with Mrs Penn had done more to soothe her nerves than anything else could have done. She stood at the window and contemplated the overgrown lawn, reflecting on how she'd expected to spend the day listlessly in Sydney Place, pretending to Selina that she was perfectly content. Now, she was no longer consumed with misgivings; she'd chosen her course. She rather hoped Fanny had been up to the task of dealing with Selina's inevitable hysterics when the news reached her, but she was happy to wait and see what happened next.

Despite her initial nervousness about being here and her new role as mistress of Danescourt, she found herself taking an interest in the house and its history, and a much keener interest than she had anticipated in its future. She could see them being comfortable here, once the hard work was done, and, on receiving the tea tray and some paper, immediately plunged into some planning. Miles found her, half an hour later, with an empty tea cup at her elbow and several pages full of lists scattered around her.

"No, don't get up," he said, pouring his own cup of tea. "I see you are busy and won't interrupt you for long."

"There isn't much else I can do for now," Abby said. She pushed back her chair and joined him at the tea tray. "Mrs Penn has the cleaning well in order, and I have finished all my lists. I do hope that you meant it when you said I could have whatever I wanted."

"You can always have whatever you want," said Miles. He took her cup from her and poured her a fresh one with lazy domesticity. Abby took it with a smile of thanks.

"I'd like to have a look in those boxes," she said, pointing to the crates standing in front of the fireplace. "Between spending your fortune on closed stoves, curtains and rugs, I have been filled with curiosity, since these are clearly the only new things in the entire house. Mrs Penn says they arrived today."

"Ah, my boxes from India," Miles said. "I had them put in storage when I first arrived, but it seemed proper to have them sent here."

"Really?" asked Abby, looking at them with greater interest than ever. "It somehow never occurred to me that you might have things to bring home. I almost imagined you uprooted from India and swept across the sea with merely the clothes on your back."

"Oh, I have burdened myself with a few things," he said. "I have a fondness for things I find charming."

Abby looked up at him to find him smiling warmly, with unmistakable affection. "Even when their hair, though it grows prettily, is an unremarkable brown?" she asked, with a saucy smile of her own.

"Especially then," he replied. "And I still would dearly love to kiss you." Abby put her cup of tea down and took his cup from him. She wanted to kiss him again too. They had kissed before, but it had always been rushed and urgent before. Now, in the late afternoon sun, in the house he had turned over to her, she wanted to take her time with kissing him. 

"I think," she said, "that seeing as how you have me trapped in your gloomy mansion, having thrown off all my protectors, that a little kissing would be permissible, perhaps even obligatory, in the circumstances." 

Miles slid an arm around her waist as Abby ran her hand up his lapel to stroke her thumb along his jaw. Bending his head, Miles caught her lips with his own in a soft kiss. Abby let it linger for a moment before shifting her mouth under his, encouraging him to do more, not sure how to take the initiative herself. Miles seemed to understand, catching hold of her intent with his customary quickness. He pressed her close with his hand at her waist, the other at the back of her head to tilt her face up. 

Abby opened up to the kiss, her own hands grasping his shoulders hard. She felt no shyness, just curiosity and a sense of excitement. As Miles bit gently into her lower lip, she opened her mouth and let him explore. As they kissed more, she grew bolder, copying his moves and taking control. Miles let her do what she liked, and Abby found that even more intoxicating. When she finally pulled back, breathing hard, she had to force herself to meet his gaze.

Miles looked at her with evident love, and the warmth of hunger. He smiled and kissed her lips again, before drawing her close and folding his arms around her. Abby rested her head on his shoulder, one hand flat on his chest over the steady beat of his heart.

"My bright, particular star," he said. Abby smiled and pulled free, reaching up to kiss him once before drawing free. Tucking one hand into his arm, she pulled him over to the crates.

"Come," she said, "I had better see the last mysteries of your life before I decide whether to escape tonight as you sleep."

"Didn't Mrs Penn show you the dungeon?" he asked. "There is no escaping from me, my girl."

Abby laughed as Miles pulled out a pen knife and started working at the cords on the first crate. She had never thought an abduction could ever go as well as this one had.


	2. Ramshackle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was in those crates? Or, more importantly, what does Abby wake up to the morning after her abduction?

Light crept into the room through a gap in the curtains. Abby blinked and raised herself on one elbow, the better to scowl at the sun. She blinked again, as her sleepy eyes registered that this was not her bedroom at Sydney Place. The sun wasn't just working its way through a careless gap in the curtains, it was streaming in through holes in the extremely threadbare curtains hanging in the master bedroom of Danescourt, her new home. Abby frowned as she tried to remember if she'd specified that new curtains for this room were a priority.

Belatedly, Abby looked around for Miles, but the bed next to her was empty, though still warm. She wasn't sure whether to be glad she had a time to compose herself, or sorry that he wasn't still naked and enticing next to her. She bit her lip and stifled a giggle as she thought of some of the new things she had learned last night, then blushed, even though no one was there to see her. She felt both shy and exultant, and wished he was there to kiss her and press her back against the sheets again.

Spying her nightgown crumpled on the floor, Abby clambered out of the large, old-fashioned bed and pulled it hastily over her head. She crossed to the window and drew one of the curtains back a little, careful not to split the worn fabric any further. The window was grimy, but she could see the blue sky and the sun, highlighting the overgrown garden. A cart turned the corner of the drive, laden with timber and making slow progress over the rutted surface. Miles hadn't been exaggerating the level of disrepair and Abby frowned again as she considered the plan of attack she'd drafted.

The door opened behind her, interrupting her thoughts, and Miles came in, casual in shirtsleeves and no cravat, balancing a homely tea tray in one hand. Abby came forward to shut the door.

"Abby!" he said. "I had hoped you would sleep a little longer so I might surprise you with my domestic virtues."

"Very pretty behaviour for the Lord of the Manor," she said, "traipsing around in yesterday's clothes and carrying tea trays."

"That's exactly what Mrs Penn said too," said Miles. "You two will deal extremely together and I daresay I'll be living under the cat's foot in no time."

"I daresay you'll be as shameless as always," retorted Abby. Miles put the tea tray down and pulled her into his arms, kissing her soundly. Abby kissed him back, her shyness fleeting and momentary before the pleasure of being in his arms outweighed it. Twining her fingers in his hair, Abby pressed close, opening her mouth to his tongue, shivering as his hands swept down her back.

"You're cold," said Miles, breaking the kiss. "You'd better get back in bed, my dear."

"And you?" prompted Abby, hitching her gown up to her knees to clamber onto the bed. She turned her head to see Miles's gaze fixed on her bare legs and smiled at his absorption.

"Oh, I have no hesitation in being shameless enough to come back to bed," he said, looking up and meeting her gaze, the hungry look evident on his face. "But tea, first. I can pretend to be civilised." There would be more to have in bed than tea, his expression promised. 

He poured tea and handed Abby her cup and saucer. Glancing round the room, he gathered up a shawl and tucked it round her shoulders. Abby played with the fringe as Miles poured his own tea and carelessly shucked off his own clothes. Not even bothering with his own nightgown, he pushed back the blankets and climbed into bed. Abby watched him closely, out of the corner of her gaze, taking in all the hard planes and angles of his body, so new to her.

"Have you plans for the day?" Miles asked. "More plotting with Mrs Penn, I expect?"

"It's only fair that I fight your villainy by attempting to steal the affection of your servants," Abby said. "But, yes, we have rather more planning to do, and rather more of your money to spend."

She played with the fringe of her shawl again, thinking about discovering it last night, folded carefully in thin paper in one of the crates he'd brought home from India. She'd been unsurprised by the ivories and the brass, and even the blue pottery, but the cashmere had been unexpected, even after all the other unexpected events of the day. Miles reached out and touched her hand.

"Even when I had no idea you existed," he said, "I must have known about you. That shawl suits you perfectly, though I had no one in mind when I brought it."

Abby looked up at Miles, propped up on one elbow with the sheets slipping down his body, and thought that maybe she'd always known about him too, and that's what had kept her waiting during her days of boring, respectable suitors. She certainly did not feel _mere liking_ for Miles.

"A fondness for things you find charming?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "I was in the town to negotiate some mining treaties: perfectly respectably, I might add." He frowned mock-reprovingly as Abby giggled. "They don't have much textile industry up there, so I expect this was made in some cottage in the country, but the design was unusual, and the colours were such a perfect blend of blues, and I brought it on a whim, because it was charming. Then I packed it up and forgot about it, and now here it is, perfect for you."

"Fortunately, I like blue," Abby said, knowing that Miles would hear what she meant, that she was happy to be here and have him, ramshackle as he was, as he would undoubtedly make her.

Four months later, after endless infuriating delays and countless petty annoyances, not more than five weeks after it was first supposed to be ready, Abby pushed open the door to the newly decorated Blue Saloon and carried in the tea tray. Miles looked up from the letter he was writing and smiled. 

"Ramshackle, indeed, my dear," he said. "Whatever would Mrs Penn say?"


End file.
